


Tae Hell Wi' the Rules

by WerepuppyBlack



Category: Brave (2012), Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Consensual Sex, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Inspired by Once Upon a Time (TV), Shameless Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-29
Updated: 2015-12-29
Packaged: 2018-05-10 06:39:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5574856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WerepuppyBlack/pseuds/WerepuppyBlack
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Merida has had her thoughts being plagued for some time now. She's had enough. She's going to deal with it, on her own terms. Even if "the rules" would tell her to do otherwise.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tae Hell Wi' the Rules

It all started simply enough, as most things do. A look there, a touch here, a slight reddening of the cheeks and a few awkward sentences between them. A case of one seeing the other in a state of undress without the other knowing (Merida always had been the best of them when it came to being light on the feet) that had lead to not being able to look the other in the eye without red marking their cheeks. Nothing had happened, nothing could have happened, not when they were still dealing with the Southern scunner who sought to steal their own wee Witch to save his own crown. (If it was to save his people, the Witch had made it clear she would have went willingly. But she couldn't stand selfish gits coming to her wanting magic to just booster their own power.)

But soon it was over. (Well, not soon. Even with the help of the folks from the Other Land, there were some things that took time, and Merida made good on her threat about someone having not idea of what was coming for him.) King Fergus' death had been properly avenged, an' Arthur the False King was brought to justice, with his Queen left to be the true ruler of Camelot, Lancelot at her side, and Merlin to call on when advice was needed. (And didnae think that Merida hadnae paid attention to that look the Witch gave Merlin. Someone had been put in their place, an' she wisnae sure it was the Witch...) The war – such as it was – was over and now there was time to think on the things that there had been no time to deal with before. Like how her eyes had dilated on seein' him coming from the river after bathing and, good gods, _there_ was the rare man that was well-formed, wi' everythin' in proper proportion, far as she could tell. (If she was remembering more favourably than reality, she couldn't tell.) The sight had left her mouth dry, her eyes watching from her hidden spot as water tapered down his chest, moving further down and... There was a knot low in her stomach at the thought, the memory, and nothin' she did on her own could rid her of it.

So, clearly, something needed tae be done. Sooner rather than later, fer her own piece of mind rather than anythin' else. She wasn't entirely sure how she was going to go about all of this, but she had an idea. Well, less an idea and more of a... gut instinct. They tended to work out for her, so she wasn't going to go against it. Which is why, she'd explain if her Mother asked, she went wi' the bloody stupid idea o' inviting Macintosh to her own private quarters of the castle when everyone else was away celebrating the victory over Arthur.

“Whit is yer wantin', my Queen?” Macintosh had asked, wandering into the chamber and closing the door behind him. “Only there's a celebration in yer honour that we ought tae be gettin' tae...” That being said, Macintosh mused that he wouldn't much mind some quiet time if he was bein' honest. Quiet time wi' Merida... well, that would be a nice wee bonus. He hadn't _quite_ given up on the idea o' winnin' her heart, even if he was well aware that if he had had a chance before, he'd scuppered it when he took her brothers' hostage. “Or did ye just call me here tae have an excuse no tae deal wi' some of yer new admirers in the hall?”

“Ach, don't remind me,” Merida flopped into a seat, and rolled her eyes heavily. “Bloody wee clans popping up an' reminding us they pledged loyalty an' all, so their sons get a fair shot at winnin' my heart,” the scorn was dripping from her words. “I wouldn't mind much if they remembered I was their Queen while tryin' to do their wooin'. You ken that wee yin, curly an' blond? He wis all fer serenading me the night afore a battle!” Macintosh gave an incredulous laugh in response to Merida's words – very much the right response in this situation.

“Aye, because it's no like you weren't busy wi' other things,” he commented, “a wee sing-song is just what wis called fer, put yer wee heart to rights.” The smile on his face – slightly mocking, and filled with good humour – had been a rare sight over the past while, and Merida found her heart feeling like it was doing interesting little flips at the sight of it. To put herself to rights, she picked up the tankard she had, sipping from it to ease the odd lightness in her chest. It was a weaker ale she was drinking, not because she couldn't handle the harder stuff, but she hadn't the stomach for it. Not when she had other things on her mind, and other things that she wanted to get seen to. “Ah, guess I cannae be blamin' ye fer tryin' to avoid a feckless waste a' space like that, then. The clansmen willnae be so pleased, tae be missing out on their Queen's company, but I'll make sure who's to blame is kent, my Queen.” Macintosh gave a respectful bow, and turned to leave.

“Don't.” Merida got out. He turned back towards her, an eyebrow lifted in questioning. “Don't go yet. I... I called ye here, ye no even wonderin' what that was for, laddie?” Her mouth felt dry, and her chest still felt irritatingly light, and sod it all, Merida couldn't be doing wi' any of this. She was the Queen, ruler of the Clans, an' Protector of the Highlands. She did not get all weak in the knees at tryin' to deal wi' thoughts that had been plaguing her mind near long enough to make her just want them dealt wi'. Okay, aye, she was maiden, but she wasn't ignorant or blind! She'd grown up wi' shirtless men wandering around, an' seeing tackle hanging out when a wind blew the kilts tae buggery. She'd laughed at those sights too, just as her own Mother had – though it had to be said that her Mother's laugh was a lot more polite than her own, but Elinor had a grace that Merida knew she'd never get. An' that was fine. Mostly.

“Well, aye, I'm curious,” Macintosh admitted, “but considerin' that's one o' my natural reactions around you, I wasn't going tae bother much about it.” A soft chuckle ended his sentence. “What is it then, my Queen?” he asked. He sunk to his knee respectfully, figuring that whatever was on Merida's mind, it must be something of great importance if she would bring it up deliberately to have him stay when she wanted peace an' quiet. There was silence, and he raised his head, looking at her with a curious expression. She had a look on her face that he'd no seen before. At least not on her.

Merida, for her part, was just wondering how readily Macintosh would get to his knees for her, before mentally giving herself a kick for the thought. If she was having thoughts like that, well, there was no question about it. She needed to get this dealt wi'. Sooner rather than later. She took a breath, and pushed the tankard away. No ale was going to tae help her through this.

“I need ye to get yer kit off.”

“...Whit?”

“Are ye deaf, laddie? It's no' that hard a thing tae understand!” Merida groaned. Macintosh gave a cough, and bowed his head again.

“Begging yer pardon, my Queen, but it's more... I dinnae understand yer reasoning.” There, that ought tae be the right way to put it. Honestly, what lassie – maiden lassie at that – just goes up to a bloke an' asks him to get his kit off. Was this some strange thing she'd picked up in the Other Land? (He was ignoring the fact that his first reaction was just to do as she bid wi'out questioning. She'd clearly taken leave of her senses, an' if he'd actually done that, she'd come back tae them quick enough an' a sword would be used on him wi' great accuracy.) Merida simply sighed.

“Yer plaguing my thoughts, is that reason enough?” She caught him looking up at her through the corner of her eye, not feeling brave enough to look at him directly. Not yet, anyway. “While we were out dealin' wi' that scunner, Arthur, I caught a peek of ye comin' frae the river after bathin' an' since then I cannae get the sight out of my bloody mind.” She took a deep breath, readying herself for the next bit of what she needed to say. “Cannae even sleep because it keeps me awake an' I cannae get myself seen tae,” she added in a low mutter, before raising her voice – to audible level – once again. “So I need ye to get yer kit off. Sooner rather than later.”

Macintosh stood, and couldn't stop himself from staring at his Queen. He'd... been plaguing her thoughts. _He'd_ been plaguing _her_ thoughts. Well, that was something he never thought he'd heard. He resisted the urge to tell her it was about bloody time considering how often she'd plagued his, but she wis his Queen, after all. Speaking of... Merida had turned to look at him now. She picked up the tankard, and sat back in her seat, looking at him wi' a sense that she was just waiting. Well, he'd been given an order, and never let it said a Macintosh shirked afore their duty to their leader. Taking a silent breath, he began the work to get himself out of his kilt.

Merida fought to keep her breathing even as she watched Macintosh take off his kilt. She'd always secretly had a bit o' an admiration for his muscles, an' the way that ridiculous blue war paint drew a person's eye to his arm, making it hard to look away. His chest, well, there wasn't much she could say about that that hadn't been said before by many a lass. She'd overheard the lassies who worked in the castle, an' how much they loved to discuss the 'handsome Lord Macintosh'. Aye, he was that, not that she'd ever tell him to his face. The heavy thud of the kilt falling to the ground caused her gaze to travel downwards, mouth drying as she did so. Turns out she was remembering just as reality had offered.

Macintosh felt like a right numpty, an' that was the politest way he was going to put that. A glance at his Queen's face though, an' he didn't feel half so daft. There was a darkening in her eyes, and he watched as her tongue darted out to wet her lips as her gaze travelled over him, taking in every inch of him as far as he could tell. He watched her stand from her chair, and place the tankard down on the table. He watched as she stepped forward, her step as firm as ever, until she stopped just a breath away from him. Her hand reached out, and placed itself on his chest, rising with his own measured breathing. He met her gaze at she looked up at him. Her other hand came up to wrap around his neck, and he didn't mind at all when she pulled him into a kiss. His own hands reacted, reaching to pull her in closer – regardless of the fact he was undressed and this was his Queen – one burying itself in her hair, the other keeping a firm grip round her waist. He might have been plaguing her thoughts, but she wasn't the only one who'd been havin' their thoughts invaded.

She shouldn't have started this, Merida knew that much. But she had and she wasn't goin' tae back down now. Gods, but he could kiss! Just seeing again wasn't enough, and touchin' wasn't enough either. She needed tae feel him properly – flesh on flesh, an' her legs wrapped around him. She was the Queen, an' she knew what she wanted, an' judging by the feel o' the man she was pressed up against, she wasn't the only one wanting. Stepping back, deliberately but reluctantly, her hands made her way to undo her own dress, keeping her eyes locked wi' Macintosh's. Maiden, she may be, but she was no wee blushing thing. She'd seen war, an' all that came wi' it. Her dress fell to her feet and she stepped out, leaving her in her flimsy shift an' glad of the fire roaring away – they'd both have frozen wi'out it.

She kept her eyes on his as she did away wi' the shift an' all, stepping back once again as she stepped away from the material that gathered on the floor. It was her turn now, to be studied, and she refused to drop her head, keeping it held high as Macintosh's eyes feel to looking all over her. She felt the urge to blush rise and fought it back. After all, being naked in front of someone she'd fought an' been wounded beside was no as embarrassing as it could have been wi' a total stranger. It took only a few broad steps and then he was holding her tight against him again, kissing with a fury she'd seen him use on the battlefield. That? That she could deal wi'. It didn't take long for the kissing – as great as it was – to grow not enough for Merida, and she found herself forcing them to turn round, shoving Macintosh to sit in the seat she had left open.

“Meri-” he started to speak, but found himself shutting up when she sat on his lap, and leant forward to nip his throat with her teeth. There was a low growl from him, and his hands gripped tightly at her waist. “Lass, you best know what you're doing, 'cause I'm no sure if I can hold back any longer,” he warned. One hand ran up her spine, feeling her shudder under his touch. This was no the way it was meant tae be, so he'd been telt. A lass looking to be bedded for the first time would be shy, an' blushin', an' need the man to show her the way. Aye, that might be for some lassies out there, but his Queen? Fer Merida of DunBroch? Tae hell wi' those rules, she'd be making her own. An' gods, it drove him mad wi' want.

“Mac,” Merida said, hands running up to grip into his hair. “Either shut yer mouth by putting it to good use, or just shut it.” With that, she pulled his hair, forcing his head up so she could claim his mouth in a hungry, desperate kiss. Hands grasped at each other, Macintosh's finding his way to her breasts and cupping them, calloused fingers running over what proved to be surprisingly sensitive nipples, judging by the moaning Merida forced into his mouth. She moved along his legs, bringing herself closer to him. She paused – just briefly – before lifting herself to hover over his crotch. Macintosh looked up at her, brow quirked.

“Ye sure?” Two words were all that were needed. Merida gave a look, asking the need for such a daft question wi'out needing to say the words. Her hand gripped his cock, and he grunted, hips jerking forward into her touch. Her laugh rang out, and she sat, directing him into her, giving a low hiss as she did. It was matched by Macintosh's own low grunt, holding her steady by her waist as she sat still, head against his shoulder and nails digging into his back. He wanted to say something, but words wouldn't come. Instead he did as she suggested, and put his mouth to good use, sucking and nibbling at her neck.

Merida, for her part, let out a small gasp. The stillness came from the overwhelming feeling of being so full. Aye, she hadn't expected it, and now she felt it, she knew that there was no way that she'd stopped being plagued by thoughts. If anything? They were only going to get worse from here on out. But she had a feelin' that Macintosh wouldnae be adverse tae helpin' her deal with herself when they all got too much. A hand reached to his hair again, it was easier tae get him to pay attention by tugging on it, as she experimentally rolled her hips against him. He pushed up against her as she did and, oh aye, _that_ was a new feelin' alright. She kept up the movement slowly, getting herself into a rhythm that was easy to keep to.

Macintosh glanced down, watching as Merida rode him, watching as he entered, exited, and re-entered her in succession and wondered if there was such a thing as a sight that had ye convinced ye'd die happily to see again and again. Her back arched as she rode him, her hands resting on his legs to keep her balance. The arched back brought her chest into a position where he could lean forward and place his mouth on one of her breasts, closing over a nipple and dragging his teeth lightly over the flesh. He heard the whimper of pleasure from her – along with a few other noises that were going to stay in his head for a while – and found himself doing It again, his other hand tracing over the curve of her hips as his own jerked in time to her movements.

“Oh, hells, Mac,” Merida muttered, eyes closed and head flung back, hair sticking to her forehead with sweat. “It's not enough,” she muttered, driving her hips harder and faster, building up the friction between them. In response, he moved his arms, wrapping them both around her waist to steady her, forcing their bodies into a faster rhythm again as he felt the beginnings of her muscles readying to clench around him. “Aye, like that,” she muttered once again, leaning forward to kiss him, long and messily, hands running over his cheeks. “Harder, Mac,” her voice came out muffled as she leant against him. One of her hands reached down between them, pressing her flesh down harder on him. “I'm …. I just … I _need_ ...” The words were lost in her throat, and she groaned as he nipped at the flesh.

His arms shifted, one moving to grip harder round her waist as they both banged against each other at a speed that would leave bruises to both with neither caring. The other followed her hand, running over the fingers the pressed against her own flesh and moving lower. Merida's eyes shot open, and she gripped at his shoulder.

“Aye, aye, _right there_ ,” she moaned, pushing against his fingers as much as she could. There was a rumble in his chest as he laughed, fingers working the little bundle of nerves he'd found as they continued to rut against each other. Their groans were accompanied by the loud sounds of flesh smacking against flesh, and it was to their own luck that the celebrations down in the hall were loud enough to drown out the noise of anything else, or they'd have been found long ago. “Hells, Mac,” she breathed heavily, “I'm so... it's just...” she didn't have the words to describe it this time, it wasn't that they were lost.

“Let it happen,” he muttered into her ear, kissing at the lobe and giving a particularly hard thrust on his words. He knew what she meant, and he could feel it too, building in himself. He worked at that little bundle, stroking faster as he thrust harder. Merida bite into his shoulder, letting out a muffled scream as her muscles clenched around him and she shook. Within moments, he was letting out his own low groan, feeling her muscles pulling at him and bringing him to his own end, shuddering against her. There was silence, apart from their heaving breathing, struggling to regain something to speak with. It was Merida who found her voice first.

“I think,” she started, swallowing to rid her mouth of it's dryness, “I think we might have a wee bit of a problem.” Macintosh looked over at her, moving her hair out of her face. She leant forward, resting on him, enjoying the feel of him under her. “Aye, we've got a problem alright. This is goin' tae plague my thoughts even more than that wee glance did,” she smirked up at him. She felt the rumble this time, as he laughed.

“An' what would ye suggest tae fix this problem, my Queen?” Macintosh asked, his voice tired, but happy.

“Well, fer one thing, ye c'n stop the flirtin' wi' other lassies,” Merida told him. “I think we'll need tae be repeatin' this more than once, an' I'll no have others takin' what's mine.” Her head was on his shoulder, her eyes closed as she spoke. He was comfortable, and her limbs felt heavy but she felt that that low bundle of _something_ in her stomach had been fixed. Macintosh was the cure as much as he'd been the cause, funny how that worked.

“I'm yours, am I?” She heard him say, feeling his fingers tracing patterns up her back once more. “Aye, I think I c'n deal wi' bein' yours.”

“Ye'd better,” she replied. Then she yawned. “Now, just give me a few moment tae get myself together... then ye'd better be ready. Telt ye; you've been plaguing my thoughts an' I'm no' lettin' ye leave till you've made up fer every lost night of sleep.” Macintosh laughed in response. Merida smirked, and leant in to kiss him once again. Aye, this? This was somethin' she could see herself keepin'. He was somethin' she could see herself keepin'.

'Course, there were still room to check. One more go wouldnae hurt, just to make sure...

 


End file.
